


The Kindness of Almost Strangers

by EventHorizon



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Lestrade, pre-Mystrade, traffic collision
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-23 20:48:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6129616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EventHorizon/pseuds/EventHorizon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being stuck in London traffic was not Lestrade's favorite way to pass the time, but today might be an exception...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Kindness of Almost Strangers

**Author's Note:**

> Moving this little fellow over from tumblr, so it can enjoy a happy new home...

Lestrade hated London traffic at the best of times.  He hated it more when he was having to fight through it for the job.  He hated it with an undying passion when it was gridlocked so tightly you could hear the fabric of the universe screaming from the pressure.

Tossing his keys to the detective constable sweating in the passenger’s seat, Lestrade got out to try and see if there was any hope they would make their appointment to interview the miserable bastard who thought they wouldn’t be able to figure out that the strangling of his mistress that was done with _his_ tie, in _his_ little love nest was actually done by _him_.  People were stupid, but that did make the job easier, sometimes.

      “Bloody wonderful.  There’s a big traffic collision ahead.  And… yeah, here comes the ambulances.  We could be in for a wait.  Hold on, let me see if I can find out what happened.”

Not that he had any business finding out what happened, but if there was a choice between sitting in traffic on a hot day or walking about and maybe lending a hand with something, there wasn’t really any confusion about which he’d pick.  Strolling past the line of cars and angry drivers, Lestrade smiled politely at the envious faces snarling at him, but cringed when he reached the scene.  Multi-car incident and one of them looked a bit like it had seen one of those car compactors they used at scrapheaps.  It boggled him how cars could receive that much damage from a collision at London-traffic speeds, but they did and it was an ugly sight every time.

Flashing his credentials, the DI took a moment to look around for who was in charge of the situation, quickly recognizing the tired, resigned and slightly bemused expression of anyone who ever had to serve in a supervisory position in any form, anywhere.  Showing his bonafides once again was all that was necessary for the story to come flowing out of the man.

      “Idiot in that little silver thing ignored a traffic signal and hit the big black sedan, then those two other vehicles… I don’t know, I guess they were startled and lost control, but they added to the carnage.”

      “Injuries?”

      “A few.  I’m hoping to get this cleared quickly, but ‘quickly’ is going to be liberally used so don’t count on moving in the next few minutes.”

      “Understood.  Let me know if there’s anything I can do to speed things along.”

One quick nod of shared sympathy and Lestrade was off to, frankly, stave off the frustration.  With no coffee, cigarette or good book to while away the time until the vehicles were cleared out, he might as well do something productive.  It was a nasty mess, too; blood on glass wasn’t anybody’s idea of lovely.  However… oh no… why did he have to think ‘lovely?’  Speak of the devil and he shall appear… Mycroft Holmes!  The most gorgeous man in London _and_ the most unavailable.  Not that he’d tried to find out if that was actually the case, because all he’d ever done was say a nervous hello or comment on the weather like a pathetic social dimwit, but there was no one in the city who made his heart race as fast or body respond as strongly as the elegant Holmes and since he’d never, _ever_ act on any of that, unavailable was just as good a word as any.  And there was Mycroft right in the middle of this disaster with every long, luscious inch of him slumped… slumped?

Lestrade dashed over to the car, ignoring the glares-with-intent he received from the driver, to reach the elder Holmes’s side.

      “Mr. Holmes?  Are you alright, sir?”

Mycroft held off opening his eyes because he did not want them to see what his ears were currently announcing.  Of all the law enforcement officials in the city, of which there were _scads_ , the one who presents themselves to him in his most unappealing moment was the one for whom the sun dimmed it’s light in tribute for its glow could never match the brightness of the man’s smile.  Was he to have no mercy today?

      “Ah, Detective Inspector.  I was not aware you had been reassigned to traffic duty.”

      “Actually, I’m stuck in the traffic and thought I’d see what the fuss was about.  But, I would appreciate an answer, sir.  Are you alright?”

Besides a monstrous headache, a body that felt like it had tripped and fallen during the running of the bulls and was left to the beasts’ fury, vision that was not exactly willing to focus and something wet and sticky insulting his carefully styled hair… yes.  But wasn’t the concern in the Detective Inspector’s voice a comfort at this onerous time…

      “I am perfectly well, thank you.”

That wasn’t even close to the truth.  Didn’t the man in the million-pound suit have any clue as to how ridiculous that sounded?  Actually… no, he probably didn’t…

      “You thought that sounded normal, didn’t you, sir?”

Well… yes.  Was that a serious question?  Had Gregory also suffered a blow to the head?  That was a situation far too dreadful to contemplate, so it would be immediately filed away in the ‘Too Dreadful to Contemplate’ file along with Sherlock being elected to Parliament and the movement of the Eurovision competition to a space next to his office.  


      “Pardon me, Detective Inspector?”

      “The _I_ was too long and the _W_ was too thick.”

Was it?

      “Was it?”

      “Yeah.”

How interesting that his own driver had not noticed an impediment of speech…

      “I was unaware.”

That’s because you probably don’t get hypnotized by the sound of your beautiful voice the way I do, you miserable, sexy thing, and commit every sound you’ve ever made to memory.

      “And now you are.  Sir.  Hold on, I’m going to get someone…”

      “There are others in far greater need than myself, Detective Inspector…”

And not a one with lips that an angel would feel too worthless to kiss, Mr. Holmes, so kindly keep them shut and let me take care of you.

      “And they’ll get their own assistance, so take your fair share and let someone look you over.  You’re bleeding, My… Mr. Holmes, do you realize that?”

Blood is quite sticky.  My hair, as previously noted, is sticky.  The mysterious hair defiler has now been identified.  How efficient.

      “It is a minor matter, I am certain.”

Though if it prompts you to stand closer, lean in and allow me a better view of your majestic brown eyes, I shall not complain over much, my dear Detective Inspector.  Please continue and linger at will.

      “No, it’s not.  And that’s not your normal smile, either, so I’m just going to assume everything you say is a lie and do what I feel is necessary.  Sir.”

Oh my… it was a rare thing that anyone attempted to adopt such a dominant position and it was a _unique_ thing to find it so very… enjoyable.  How delightfully aberrant… perhaps the scintillating Gregory had a small point about mental status.  Or not.  Really, it was a minor matter.  Which was an inexcusable repetition.  Oh my…

      “If I agree to an inspection, will that assuage your concerns?”

      “Yes, so you sit quietly and I’m going to bring over one of the paramedics.”

Because if I don’t, I’m going to be calling for a helicopter to transport you to hospital and I have no idea what reason I’d put on the paperwork except sexiest man in London has a knocked head and that’s not going to help move me up the promotion ladder.

      “I shall comply with the very letter of your command.”

Not that I desire our company be severed, but the view of your incomparable backside as you stride away is its own very pleasurable balm for the bruise of your parting.  And the view of your incomparable frontside as you stride back with medical practitioner is just as divine…

      “Mr. Holmes, this young woman is going to check you out, but I’ll be right here in case she tries anything cheeky.”

Look at me being all calm and collected enough to make little jokes.  Really, I’m a take-charge kind of guy.  No getting bothered or scattered when there’s a crisis… nope, that’s not Greg Lestrade.  The person I want most in the world to be wrapped around me with nothing between us but a few stray bits of air is in pain and damaged, but I’m going to make sure things get done right.  No flapping about like a startled chicken.  That’s not me.  Not at all.  Oh god… that really is a lot of blood…

      “He’s ok, right?  Scalp injuries bleed a lot, isn’t that the case? Doesn’t necessarily mean anything bad.  That’s true, isn’t it?  A few plasters and that will be the end of it.  Just plasters and rest and that thick _W_ is going to sort itself out on its own and he’ll be back to normal.  Did I mention the thick _W_?  It is and you should probably know that.  Why didn’t I mention that in the first place?”

Everyone stand back of you’ll get the feathers of my flapping wings right in the face.

      “Gregory… I am certain all is well.”

He said _Gregory_.  That smooth, sexy jaguar of a man just called him Gregory.  Which was his name.  Mycroft called him by his name, thank you very much.  And he used the whole thing, with lots of purr, which might have been slightly addled purr, but it still counts and that cozy memory was going to warm his cold bed quite nicely tonight…

      “We’ll let the professional decide, Mr. Holmes.  I know you’ve got Sherlock beat for brains, but since I haven’t heard anything about any medical degree, I’m going to say this isn’t exactly your area of expertise.

A compliment… a very delightful complement, at that.  Dear Gregory properly recognized his mental superiority over that hissing kitten that purported to be his brother and proudly announced that fact.  Why was the car’s recording device not switched on?  Intolerable!  This could have been replayed at a later moment when his spirits were low, energies were depleted and a supportive word from an exemplar of a man would provide much-needed rejuvenation.

      “Very well.  I am, however, confident the verdict shall be in my favor.”

      “You need to go to hospital, sir.”

That was certainly not in his favor.

      “I beg your pardon, madam?”

      “You heard her, Mycroft.  You’re going to hospital and that’s the end of the story.”

      “It most certainly is not.  I have a very busy agenda today and a simple vehicular collision…”

      “Name three things that are on your schedule and do it in under five seconds.”

      “What?  Oh very well… I believe later this morning is a meeting with… no that is later in the afternoon…”

      “And done.  From what I’ve observed, you normally would toss off my three things in the first two seconds, and add in another three or four in the time remaining just to put me in my place.  You’re not thinking correctly and that worries me.  You _are_ going to go to hospital and have them look you over more thoroughly.  Then, you’re going to get some rest for a day or two.  If you hurt now, just wait until tomorrow – you’re going to wish you’d never been born.”

Hmmm... that was a highly unlikely thing since the memory of being doted upon by the stunning Gregory Lestrade would linger long in this mind, current addling notwithstanding.  And, of course, there would also linger the memory of the number of body regions currently enjoying the thoroughly commanding tone of the Detective Inspector’s voice.  Oh my... how very inappropriate.  But how utterly exciting…

      “I appreciate you concern, Gregory, however… ah.  Yes, matters are now in hand.”

Lestrade followed Mycroft’s slightly blurred gaze to the line of dark-suited men walking towards them.

      “Nope, not going to happen.”

Sons of bitches thought they were going to walk over and take charge of his Mycroft when they were only _paid_ to treat him like a king, not treat him like a king because they _think_ he’s a king, which he is and a gorgeous king, at that.  Well, they were going to have to walk right through him and good luck doing that because he did _not_ mind fighting dirty when there was a lot at stake…

\---  


Oh… now that was a posture fit for only the most valiant warrior.  Muscular legs planted and spread for balance, powerful arms crossed across a broad and imposing chest and that delectable bottom right at eye level.  This was certainly a happy outcome of his Gregory’s stubbornness.

      “Mr. Holmes…”

      “Back off, Sunglasses.  He’s is in good hands.”

      “I was not speaking to you, sir.”

      “Doesn’t matter.  You just toddle off and leave things with me.”

      “Mr. Holmes… do you require our assistance?”

Time to think… assistance would mean being escorted to a waiting vehicle and taken to his office where his private physician would tend to his care.  Of course, that would injure his Detective Inspector’s pride, which was entirely unacceptable.  It might also injure his darling Detective Inspector’s _body_ , if the man maintained his obstinacy and that was _appalling_.  Well, that was a decision quickly made.

      “Not at this time, thank you.”

Yeah, just walk away you pack of clones.  Go find your own prize to fuss over and leave mine alone.  And don’t you dare comment on just how possessive and insane that sounded or you’re going to get a thumping you’ll never forget.  Not that you actually heard any of it, but, as we’ve established, I’m insane, so deal with it.

      “Good.  Didn’t want to embarrass your lads by showing them what an old cop can do when he’s got his temper up.”

      “They would greatly have felt the sting of your chastisement, I am certain.  And the spectacle would have been a marvel to view.”

My, how virile Gregory appeared when puffed with a surfeit of masculine ego…

      “It _would_ have been.  Haven’t had a good dust-up in a long time, but I still remember how to fight to win.  Now, let’s see about getting you to a doctor.  Don’t worry about a thing, Mycroft, I’m going make sure you’re taken care of properly.”

      “You have an abundance of duties, I am certain…”

      “None this important, so you just hush and try to relax.  They’re coming to get you and don’t you even think about protesting having a little ride over to the ambulance.  Not going to take any chances with that head of yours.  Now, I’m going to go and let my constable know where I’m going and call in the situation so they know where they can find me.  Behave, alright love?”

And one small kiss on that beautiful head to keep his…

_Uh oh._

____  
_

_My personal fortune if this is not a hallucination._

____  
_

_I just kissed Mycroft Holmes._

____  
_

_I just received the affection of Gregory Lestrade._

____  
_

_And I called him love.  That’s worse than Mycroft.  Which I’ve already been calling him!_

____  
_

_And he addressed me with an adoring name!_

____  
_

_Maybe he’ll pass out and won’t remember._

____  
_

_I shall not forget this moment if I live an eternity._

      “Umm….”

      “Hmm…”

      “I’ll uh…”

      “Yes…”

Oh fuck this.  He hasn’t had me shot yet!

      “Like I said, just behave and maybe I’ll find you a nice treat to enjoy while they’re checking your head.”

Bold?  Yes!  Now is not the time for timidity!

      “I rather think I have already received such a thing.”

Really?

      “Really?”

Could there be any doubt?  Dear Gregory was such a humble man…

      “Most assuredly.”

      “Then I’ll make sure you get another very soon.  Stay conscious so you don’t miss it, ok?”

      “I shall fight valiantly the lure of repose.”

      “Ok… back in a moment.”

Lestrade hurried back towards his waiting car and hoped his grin didn’t make him look like an escaped lunatic.  He kissed Mycroft!  All these months of pining, trying to snatch a quick word with the man, feeling his heart soar whenever he caught a glimpse of that lean form leaning against a brolly.  Now, he just had to make sure he didn’t do anything daft and ruin this because… well, it very much looked like the start of something and that something was very, very important…

Mycroft took a long, deep breath and allowed himself a smile through the crippling pain in his skull.  All these months of longing, coinciding his arrivals at Sherlock’s flat with the Detective Inspector’s departure so he could gaze a moment on the man’s beauty and share a small greeting to hear his sultry voice.  Now, he must make certain that he committed no faux pas and doused the heat of Gregory’s ardor.  This was far too valuable a thing to allow to slip from his grasp…

      “Mr. Holmes?”

Gregory?  No, only the driver.  Drat.

      “Yes?”

      “Your orders, sir?”

      “Ah… stay with the vehicle until such time as the police no longer have a need for you then make arrangements to have it removed.  I shall… I shall not be returning to the office today.”

      “Yes, sir.  And if it is not overstepping… good luck.”

Oh, his luck would be very good indeed.  After all, _someone_ would have to look after him for the evening, wouldn’t they, and he had a suspicion as to who would volunteer for that particular task…


End file.
